The Treasure story-- chapter two

This appears to be a story for young people, as the chapters are -- at the moment -- quite short.

Once the cake was in the oven and sending its fragrance into every corner of the house, I sought out Olivia. I found her curled in a warm grey circle in the middle of my bed pillow.

I stretched out beside her with my head resting on my arm so that our eyes were on the same level. "So, there IS a Gateway to a Land of Secrets?" I asked.

"I'm not at liberty to say."  She closed her eyes.

I touched the tip of her silvery ear and her eyes opened in a scowl.  "I'm NOT at liberty to say," she repeated.

"Olivia, that sounds suspiciously like what a human politician would say when he just didn't want to answer a question."

"I DON'T want to answer the question," Olivia agreed. "But I am also NOT at LIBERTY to SAY."

I sighed. I had experienced similar dead-end exchanges with Olivia on other topics:  whether she had noticed mice in the pantry; whether it was necessary to leave quite so much light-colored fur on my dark-colored wool slacks; the possible locations of the last three cat toys.  But these are ongoing, everyday subjects of conversation. The matter of a Land of Secrets was far more intriguing.

"Come on, Olivia." I rubbed firmly along her jaw in a way she particularly liked. "You can tell ME."

She rolled pleasurably onto her back with her paws curled sweetly, and batted her green eyes charmingly.

"No," she said.

"Olivia, we've been housemates for sixteen years, and friends for a few years before that when you didn't have a home and I fed you on the back step."

"Do I owe you something for that?" she inquired, as if she could pull from her grey fur a small purse full of gold coins.

"Well, no. Of course not. But I'm just pointing out that, for a human, I've been reliable and a good companion. I make sure there's clean, fresh litter, wholesome food and water, grass to nibble on, play time, snuggling.  If you were going to trust someone with, say, an important secret, surely it would be me."

"But I'm not going to trust someone with an important secret," Olivia said.

"Then there IS an important secret! About a Land of Secrets!"

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"Oliviaaaa!"  I sounded whiny, even to myself.

"Jaaaaaane!" Olivia whined in the identical tone. Then, more matter of factly:  "You said it yourself. You're not my Queen. I'm not at liberty to release a secret, IF I had one, to YOU."

"You HAVE a Queen?"  The day was becoming as full of mystery as the house was full of sweet cake aroma.

"I'm not at liberty to say."

I stretched my spine, my legs and feet, arms and hands, in an exaggeration of the way Olivia would stretch after a nap. "Fine, Olivia," I said airily. "That's just fine. But one of these days you're going to need someone with opposable thumbs, and THEN we'll see who you come running to."  I rose from the bed and stalked (I hope regally) from the room.